16. Threads Unravelling

16

Threads Unravelling

Hilda winced a little as she got out of the chair to fetch the coffee filter. ‘I think it’s lovely,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to meet her.’

‘I was just getting a hang of things, and now this,’ she said. ‘I mean, of course she’s my daughter, but she took Reid’s side in everything. She believed every manipulative lie he told her.’

‘And now’s your chance to reverse the damage. This should be a positive experience for you, Josie.’

‘I know, it’s just….’ Josie clenched her fists and wrung her hands. ‘Argh!’ She grinned. ‘It’s all so stressful.’

‘Shall we go down and get another slice of fudge cake after she arrives?’

‘Are you sure? You’ll be diabetic in a couple of months at this rate.’

Hilda’s smile briefly dropped before returning again. ‘We can’t not celebrate your daughter arriving in Sunset Harbour, can we?’

The call came about half an hour later. Tiffany’s bus would arrive at the stop by the harbour about half past three. With a few hours to kill, she headed back down to the campsite.

She met Barney by the entrance, scrubbing and polishing the welcome sign. Much of the paintwork had chipped or flaked off; another job to be added to the list. As Barney paused to greet her, she noticed his beard had gone, and his hair was trimmed. His clothes, benefitting from a solid wash after Josie had called Cathy Ubbers and ordered a collection, looked clean and neat. On his feet he wore a new pair of wellington boots.

Josie couldn’t help but smile. He now looked like a regular employee rather than an escaped convict.

‘We’ve started work on clearing the old parking area,’ he told her as she came over. ‘Under all that brush, there’s actually regular grass, believe it or not. Geoffrey suggested we paint some rocks to mark the way in using pastel blue and pale orange, to give the customers a bit of a beachy feeling.’

‘Good idea.’

‘We’ll need paints.’

Josie sighed. ‘All right. I’m on it.’

She turned, just as the reception door—newly repaired—opened and a tall, grey-haired man stepped out.

‘Excuse me, what are you doing?’

The man started at the sight of her, then his wizened old face opened in a wide smile. ‘Ah, Josie. You’re back.’

‘Geoffrey?’

He reached up to rub his chin as he came over. ‘Had a bit of a trim,’ he said. ‘The lad over there helped me. Huh. Not felt this smooth since I was a kid.’

The shave and haircut, as well as leaving him unrecognisable, had taken years off him. Now, rather than an eighty-year-old homeless man, he now looked like a sixty-something bank manager on the cusp of retirement. Hair ranging from dark grey to white was neatly combed over, hollowed cheeks and an impressively carved jawline held a couple of liver spots and blemishes that claimed his age.

He cocked his head as she watched him. ‘What do you think Lindsay will say?’ he said, sounding remarkably childlike, reborn even.

‘Where is she?’

‘Still in her cabin.’

‘She didn’t come out today?’

Geoffrey’s smile dropped as he shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’

Josie nodded. ‘I’ll go and see her. It’s … nice to meet you again, Geoffrey.’

‘And you.’

She left Geoffrey and Barney by the entrance and headed over to Lindsay’s cabin, a short distance past the one shared by the others, a little further into the woods.

Josie went up to the door and knocked.

‘Lindsay? Are you all right in there?’

A shuffling came from inside as though Lindsay were moving towards the door. The floor creaked, but the door stayed closed.

‘Lindsay?’

‘I’m fine, leave me alone,’ came a muffled voice from inside.

‘You don’t sound it. Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Go away.’

‘All right, if that’s what you want.’

Josie took a couple of steps backwards, then stopped again, watching the door. No further sound came from inside the cabin.

Josie waited, slowly counting to ten. She had reached nine when the handle twisted and the door opened. Lindsay, still wild-haired and dressed in little more than rags, peered out. She spotted Josie standing on the path, let out a groan and slammed the door shut.

‘Just leave me alone,’ she shouted through the door.

Josie said nothing, just stood where she was on the path. After a couple of minutes, she heard Lindsay’s voice, but quieter this time: ‘You’re still there, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

The door opened again. Lindsay, barefoot, stepped outside, closed the door, and sat down on the stone steps in front of the cabin.

‘It’s my mother’s birthday,’ she said, eyes on the gravel at her feet.

‘Why don’t you call her?’

Lindsay shook her head. ‘It’s been twenty-seven years.’

Josie walked over and sat down beside her. ‘That’s a long time,’ she said.

‘Yeah.’

They sat in silence for a while. A thousand things she could say came to mind, but none seemed anything more than hollow advice from someone who had no clue as to the situation. Just call her. Was it that easy? Twenty-seven years was a long time to be estranged from someone. Not something to be taken lightly, brushed off, repaired with a simple phone call. And who was she to give advice? She couldn’t even manage her own life.

The wind rustled through the branches of the trees overhead. May had been unseasonably warm and the last week had been dry, but under the trees, out of the sun, the wind still carried a chill.

‘I….’ Lindsay began. ‘I … I didn’t….’

Josie said nothing. She sat in silence, feeling the breeze on her cheeks, neck and bare arms, wondering if it could fix her, whether it could fix them both.

‘I … I didn’t mean … I didn’t want … to … be so angry.’

Whether she meant angry at Josie, angry at her family, angry even at herself, Josie didn’t know, nor felt she had permission to ask. She nodded to show she had heard, then waited, wondering if Lindsay would open up further.

‘It … it was always that way,’ Lindsay said at last. Josie glanced up, saw the older woman looking out into the forest. ‘I just … things … I felt … frustrated.’

Josie smiled. She understood.

‘I wasn’t … the best … daughter,’ Lindsay continued. ‘I wasn’t the best … mother. And I … wasn’t the best … wife.’

Josie looked down at the backs of her hands. She rubbed at a blemish that had appeared on her skin just behind the knuckle of her ring finger. The skin there no longer felt so supple either, as though it took time to fall back into shape. She glanced at Lindsay and suddenly saw herself in twenty years’ time if she didn’t take the actions to change things now. She wanted to offer the older woman advice, but perhaps there was nothing she could say that Lindsay didn’t already know.

‘I was wondering about something,’ Josie said quietly. ‘That old helter-skelter. I was wondering whether you can see over the top of the trees? Shall we go and find out?’

For a few seconds, Lindsay neither replied nor moved. It had taken an effort for Josie to speak; if Lindsay hadn’t heard, she doubted she could muster the strength to repeat herself. She waited, again counting silently to ten.

She had reached eight when Lindsay stood up. ‘Let me just put some shoes on,’ she said.